


Impress Me, Kid

by heavenorspace



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Boypussy, Future Fic, Older Man/Younger Man, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenorspace/pseuds/heavenorspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren runs a studio and theater with Harry many years later, when they've both left LA and gone into Broadway work. Chris is a runaway teen with a very particular secret, who hopes his future lies in their hands.</p><p>Will be mostly smut tbh, prompted by Dani/kissedmequiteinsane so what can you expect from this collab?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I don’t know," Darren sighed.  "No way is that kid eighteen, and I have always said that this wouldn’t turn into a safe house for theater-hopeful runaways." He handed back a small stack of papers with a black and white photo attached as they settled into their seats in the empty theater.  
  
"And stop it with the eyes, pal."  
  
Harry chuckled good-naturedly. There had always been an awareness of Darren’s soft spot for his tall, handsome old friend. It wasn’t fair to push the advantage too much. But a well-placed gaze, especially in nothing but his tight rehearsal clothes, had been known to sway the boss into his way of thinking.

  
  
"Okay but for real, the kid has this… _watchability_. He looks like Peter Pan but his legs go on for days and he can do the splits any way you ask him to. And he’s got these hips that, gotta say, they get me going.”  
  
Darren smirked in a way that would seem repellant on any other man in his mid-forties.  
  
"You know the way to my heart too well. But as it is I don’t much care for doing time over an underaged nobody from Podunk northern California."  
  
Darren directed his eyes back at his talent currently going through rehearsal. He had an impressive roster, some of them filched off of New York’s far more reputable studios. His reputation for bringing in ridiculous money for tiny, eccentric shows that almost lacked a traditional format completely was widely intriguing. Yet what he longed for he had yet to find. That elusive, unique, breath-taking star who would light up his house’s little stage so brightly that it scored him _big_. Millions instead of thousands at his disposal. A big fat color photo in the Sunday Times, not just a tiny review bought with a well-placed blow job (for the single men, of any orientation) or a rare public appearance for sponsorship (for the married men, of any orientation). In all his years in this business, he had yet to give the truly satisfying middle finger back at the West Coast for wasting his best years. With the right kind of superstar in one of his plays, though? He could do just that.  
  
Harry kept an eagle eye on the footwork of the dancers, but aimed the last of his arsenal at Darren.  
  
"I’ve been saving the best for last: the kid sings like a bird and has a range that will kill you. I’m talking female lead alto so convincing you’ll be looking around for the archangel it’s coming from, and a baritone that could get even our desperate housewife patrons excited. I’m serious, Darren. This could be the one."  
  
He watched Darren’s profile shift slightly at that, a flicker of his keen eyes.  
  
"How long is he in town?"  
  
"He says indefinitely, but I’m guessing whenever he gets kicked off whatever couch he’s crashing on."  
  
"Thursday. After the staff meeting. Tell him to bring me one of my old numbers ready to perform and knock my fucking socks off."  
  
Harry grimaced at the lurid pink dress socks his boss was wearing and prayed the kid could burn them off instead.


	2. Chapter 2

Darren noted out of the corner of his eye that the kid was there early. He’d expected as much from anyone worth his time, and arranged for the newbie to watch him during a staff meeting through the open lobby door. Classic douche boss move of course, but LA had taught him a _few_ things at least.  
  
The staff were all good sports at absorbing the sudden posturing and power management speak. Normally it was coffee and donuts with gossip, finished up with whatever business needed discussing. Today’s All the President’s Men-style meeting was purely for the benefit of the shivering waif sitting outside, they all knew that.

As the staff dispersed, Harry fetched a very regal-looking but actually terrified teenager from his waiting room purgatory. He was wise to oversee the initial greetings as poor Chris Colfer was trying to so hard to seem grown up and confident that he almost came off as aloof to the man he was begging for a job. If anything it seemed to pique Darren’s interest even more. Harry noted the spark of chemistry between them and made an early exit. Best to let this go where it needed to in order to convince the boss of Chris’ potential.  
  
After the initial courtesies, Darren ushered Chris through the rabbit warren of dimly lit hallways opening into dazzlingly bright rehearsal rooms. He had specifically requested that the best room be made vacant and undisturbed for a couple of hours.  
  
It had the intended effect. The kid halted at the sight of the wall of windows looking out onto a private courtyard and directly into the windows of the opposite building, where more students were working out their paces and moves. It was completely overlooked, with a wall of mirrors reflecting back everything the outside world couldn’t already see.  
  
Darren pressed a hand to the boy’s back, where the leotard dipped low to show off the smooth creamy skin and muscles. He drank in the rest of him as Chris walked to the center of the room. The kid was bordering between the endearing coltishness of a teenager and the sleek strength of a young man. A spray of freckles charmed their way over his bare shoulders, matching the ones on his upturned nose. His legs really did go on for days, and were met with surprisingly flared hips beneath his cotton sweatpants. He turned in a graceful circle while looking around him at the turn-of-the-century molding in the corners of the room and the cold light of a steely November morning on the smooth floor. While he admired the beauty of the building he hoped to one day call home, his own unique beauty was being meticulously observed.  
  
"Do you like it here, Chris?" Darren’s voice brought the boy back to the moment. His remaining San Francisco accent turned the name into ‘Chres’.  
  
He could tell by the blush and the jittery look that he’d hit the mark. _He wants a home. He’s running from something, or someone._  
  
"You have a very impressive studio here, Mr. Criss." Chris fumbled adorably over the name, knowing it sounded too close to his own. He had been determined to hold onto his pride, but impending homelessness and too many cheap meals had thrown him off his carefully crafted front. "Should I get warmed up for my audition?" Best to stick to why he was actually there than attempt any more chit chat.  
  
Darren had other ideas.  
  
"Hey now, there’s no rush. I need to know that you and I can get along, honey. I can tell you’re nervous as hell, probably had a shitty breakfast, and I’m guessing you had to change trains three times just to get here." Chris ducked his head in embarrassment at the accuracy. "No way am I going to be seeing you at your best in performing, so how about we just…"  
  
Chris watched dumbly as Darren grabbed a wooden chair with one strong hand, placed it against the the wall of mirrors and sat on it. There were more chairs against the far wall but Chris got the feeling he wasn’t meant to get himself one.  
  
His would-be boss sat with legs spread in tight grey capris and shockingly thick arms crossed in a black shirt rolled up at to the elbows. His tanned handsome face was still sweet with the big amber eyes and plush red lips. There was an added confidence and ease in the lines at his eyes and the twist of grey running through his black curls. Chris shifted on his feet and felt the last shreds of self-confidence falling around him.  
  
Darren smiled. All those sharp white teeth.


	3. Chapter 3

"Turn around and walk slowly to the windows," he commanded suddenly, but not sharply. "Stretch your legs on the barre and show me your flexibility. Then walk slowly back to me. I’ll give you instructions as you go."  
  
Chris perked up at the orders. This felt more like what he had expected. The eccentric boss had started to throw him too far off center for comfort.  
  
Nudging his practice bag off to the side he straightened up into posture. He knew his body had enviable lines and grace with unusually fine bones. Balletic wasn’t normally what Mr. Criss preferred from his choreographer and dancers, but Chris did it best so that’s what he would give.  
  
He hadn’t taken three steps when the voice behind him ordered him to remove his sweats. He mentally chided himself for not removing them first. How else was his future boss supposed to see his form?

As gracefully as possible, he slipped the threadbare sweats down to his ankles in one smooth movement without bending his knees. His one remaining leotard had shrunk to the point of being almost inappropriate considering that he didn’t own a pair of tights without a run in them. Instead he wore a girl’s plain black thigh highs, stolen from the floor of the ballerina who was letting him crash with her. A broad section of pale pink flesh was visible between the cut of the leotard on his hips and ass where the cheeks met his thighs. Considering Mr. Criss’ reputation with young recruits, Chris didn’t think the skimpiness would hurt his chances.  
  
Midway down his thighs he almost froze with horror. His cup. He had completely forgotten to put on his cup underneath the leotard in his mad rush that morning. His body kept going on autopilot but inside his mind was racing. Mr. Criss may be open-minded but how would he react to one of the few boypussies in existence peeking out at him within Chris’ threadbare leotard’s crotch?  
  
Rising back up in a smooth motion Chris carried on walking to the barre, resisting the urge to pull the leotard down over his ass where it had ridden up. He was dying to turn around or at least glance back to see if Darren had noticed. Lifting a leg on a graceful arc he began to stretch on the barre.  
  
There was a loud groan behind him and the sound of a zipper being pulled. Chris nearly lost his balance when he peeked over one shoulder.  
  
Darren had one fist tugging on his exposed cock with the other hand cupping himself through his trousers. His head was tilted back, neck red and corded with veins. His eyes were black and hooded and he suddenly looked his age…not “old” at all, but every bit twice Chris’ own age. And then some. Somehow at his age, sat in a room in a building he himself owned, assessing a boy he himself could buy at a price, the slicking of generous precome whitening his cock as he jacked off in front of a wall of windows didn’t seem at all absurd or laughable. He looked like a man in comfortable bliss.  
  
Something in Chris’ nature - because it certainly wasn’t in his non-existent experience - fell into the role of pleasing. Arching his lower back ever so slightly, as if he were merely stretching, he pushed his ass out. The fabric over his pussy was especially thin and his lips were plump. He felt one of them slip past the elastic, dragging it inside and against his pussy.  
  
There was a clatter from Darren standing up hastily and the authoritative thud of expensive Italian loafers on the wood floors.  
  
Chris gasped in genuine shock as large calloused hands sank into the flesh of his ass and thighs. Kneading and stroking none too gently. Before he could register the fact that the first man since his childhood doctor was touching him there, Darren was cupping his pussy and pawing at it until both lips were fat and swollen either side of the remnants of spandex holding his leotard in place.  
  
His hips instinctively rocked, not stopping even when he finally opened his eyes and noticed just how many people could see them. How many were openly watching.  
  
"Look at how they can’t resist staring at you, baby," came a filthy whisper in his ear. The hands were pressing into the cinch of his waist, the hollow underneath his ribcage, his sensitive chest and peaked nipples.  
  
"You’re beautiful, yes. Sexy as fuck, yes. But you’re special…" a lurid imitation of a cock with his two fingers jacking over his clit, making Chris mewl and tremble where he was still stretched taut. "So sweet and so special…"  
  
The heat disappeared suddenly and Chris was ordered to turn around.  
  
"Now stretch the other leg, this way."  
  
Chris shook his head in momentary confusion through the haze of arousal. His chest was heaving and he felt cool between his thighs where his juices had been smeared and soaked. He fumbled for his own ankle and pulled it over the barre.  
  
His first reaction to being so exposed was humiliation.  
  
Until he saw Darren sink to his knees on the floor, face slack with awe and lust. His hands moved manically all over, except where Chris needed them most.  
  
With a tug and a snarl, he shredded apart the crotch of the leotard in two. Chris wailed before he could catch himself, feeling a gush as if he were peeing. He had never felt so turned on, he was literally pouring with readiness for this practical stranger. A man he had admired and worshipped for years as a child and had any number of romantic fantasies about. Who was now actually leaning forward on his knees, spreading the lips of his pussy, and pressing his face inside.  
  
Chris understood why they called it ‘eating out’. Darren used lips, tongue and even a nip of teeth. He was gulping, pulling back to look before feasting again. Even using his own hands to press the pussy lips against the seal of his mouth.  
  
He had never been high or even drunk in his life, but Chris imagined it couldn’t be a more extreme sensation than this. Not just the tidal waves of tingling and shivering pleasure but also the suddenness of his small pussy being adored and worshipped.  
  
Pulling back with a filthy smack and stickiness, Darren gazed up at him with vicious eyes.  
  
"Do you like it? Your pussy?"  
  
 _Again, with the reading his mind thing,_ Chris thought.  
  
He remembered to swallow for the first time since getting to the barre.  
  
"I…I do. I know i-it’s seen as weird by some people. But I think. I think it’s… _cute_.”  
  
He shrugged a little, as if he were talking about a favorite pair of shoes. It evidently tickled Darren, who grinned and nodded. He was sweating and his loosely curled hair flopped in his eyes sexily.  
   
"That’s fucking right, Chris. It’s so cute." He kissed and licked a bit more. "Is it small?" Chris nodded. "You can make babies, right? You need birth control?" He nodded again, a little shakily. "So if I wrap up, can I fuck it right now?"  
  
 _Oh god._  
  
Chris nodded before he knew what he was doing.  
  
Darren stood and reached in his back pocket, extracted a condom and opened it with perfectly steady hands. His cock swung and bobbed in an enormously thick swell of flesh in front of him.  
  
"Go to the chair, put your hands on the seat and spread your legs."  
  
Chris awkwardly dropped his leg and stumbled a bit as he hustled again much less gracefully to Darren’s orders. His slim thighs didn’t touch at the top, so he felt chilly and exposed. A surge of fresh insecurity flushed his face as he bent over and opened himself to the view of everyone behind him. How had a song and dance rehearsal turned into this? And why didn’t he feel dirty or bad about it?  
  
"Hey, look up here. Look at me, kiddo."  
  
Chris obeyed, looking into Darren’s strong dark face reflected in the mirror. His smile was reassuring and his eyes were suddenly kind. If he hadn’t been rolling a condom onto a monster sized dick he would almost have looked fatherly. Chris found himself smiling back, maybe even a little saucy.  
  
Taking a breath, he sank down onto his elbows and let his feet slip further apart until his hips were at the perfect height. _This’ll show him my strength and flexibility,_ he thought giddily.  
  
His smile dropped on a choked gasp that punched back out in a shrill cry.  
  
Darren had driven right in as far as he could go. He tightened his hands and adjusted his angle and tried another thrust. Another yell punched out of Chris’ chest. With the final push Chris felt something deep inside throb and clench.  
  
He held his breath, listening with his entire quivering body to Darren panting behind him.  
  
"Oh, christ. Christ alive, honey you’re so. _Fuck._ " He pulled out and slammed in on the last word, forcing the breath back into Chris in a screech.  
  
There was no teasing or rhythm of the kind Chris had seen in porn. Darren wasn’t moderating his breathing or dirty-talking his way through it. There was only the steady slap of his thick-cut hips against Chris’ ass and the redness of lips where his mouth was open. His eyes were nearly closed, watching Chris in the mirror as the boy struggled to hold himself steady against the chair. In no porn video had Chris ever seen a man let go and _take_ like this before. Giving himself entirely through his cock into Chris’ taut, shaking body.  
  
His first orgasm rushed up so fast that he didn’t have time to feel embarrassed about the throaty noises he was making, or the push of his muscles deep inside. He felt the gushing again, and looked up to see Darren’s face twist in an agony of arousal as he looked down where they were joined.  
  
"Oh sweet jesus, yes, come on," he barked hoarsely, spanking Chris twice. He fucked shallowly at an angle to allow him to finish squirting, but forced right back in when Chris slumped in the aftermath.  
  
He didn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore, trusting the grip of his slippers on the floor and the vice of Darren’s hands on his hips to keep his ass up in the air. His cries didn’t subside, they were constant. He drooled a little on the chair where his cheek was pressed as he was pounded.  
  
With the added slickness, Darren pushed and forced two fingers in alongside himself. Once he’d coated them he smeared a generous amount over a place Chris had never played with before in his life. A cold shiver of relief ran over him at the thought that he was a ritual cleanser. Not that Darren seemed interested in stopping to ask anyway.  
  
With a little wiggling, both fingers pressed inside. Chris’ hands scrabbled at the legs of the chair, holding on for dear life. Darren was rubbing his own dick through the pressure inside Chris’ ass, his thrusts picking up in excitement and rhythm.  
  
So similar to what he had felt when the angle of Darren’s dick had hit deep inside his pussy, he felt a deeper thrill where his fingers were pressing. He felt full, cramped, and a blinding rush of orgasm. His body dragged Darren inward deeper and then pushed out.  
  
His cries were so high and thin that his voice was lost for a moment. Darren wasn’t stopping or easing. He was shouting and growling even as Chris felt himself spurting around him, dripping onto the floor. He was pulled back onto Darren and then held, feeling a swelling inside of him as everything shook.  
  
He craned his head and looked up to where Darren’s chest heaved and stretched at his drenched shirt, He looked so visceral, so animal and male that it made Chris gush weakly.  
  
The aftershocks and tension melted into bliss. Chris had never felt so many muscles in his body relax at once. He felt light as air and weak as a newborn foal as Darren dragged wetly out of him and pulled him up.  
  
Before he realized it he was sat on Darren’s lap, half curled up and being petted. It was weirdly sweet, sitting almost naked and covered in come on the softening cock of his [presumably now] boss.  
  
"So tell me," Darren panted. "Are boypussies really that tight or was that your first time?"  
  
Chris purred lightly and nestled his head into the crook of Darren’s neck. “Yes. And yes.”  
  
Darren groaned, his cock giving a feeble jolt, filling the already heavy tip of the condom. “Fuck that’s just made the hottest sex I’ve had in my life even hotter.”  
  
Chris giggled, actually swinging his feet a little where they hovered above the floor. “So, can I call you “Boss” now and come work for you?” he asked sweetly.  
  
Darren planted a sweaty kiss on his forehead.  
  
"Honey, you had this job when you got a direct recommendation from Harry. How about you call me "Darren" and come have dinner with me tonight. Then you can let me fuck you again in the morning before we bring you in to meet the rest of the team, how’s that sound?"


End file.
